THE RAID ON CARAVAGGIO’S NATIVITY by Margaret Ann Philbrick with an excerpt and #Giveaway! @AmbassadorIntl

Posted on by Vaseline

I am thrilled to host a spot on the HOUSE OF HONOR: THE HEIST OF CARAVAGGIO’S NATIVITY by Margaret Ann Philbrick Blog Tour, hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and enter the giveaway! September 29and is Caravaggio’s birthday, so let’s celebrate with this beautiful book!

About the book:

Title: HOUSE OF HONOR: THE RAID ON CARAVAGGIO’S BIRTH

Author: Margaret Ann Philbrick

Pub. Date: June 11, 2024

Publisher: Ambassador International

Formats: Hardcover, Paperback, e-book

Pages: 352

Find it: Goodreads, https://books2read.com/THE-HEIST-OF-CARAVAGGIOS-NATIVITY

“The Godfather meets The Da Vinci Code, but with a redemptive twist.” —TARYN R. HUTCHISON, award-winning author of The Cold War Trilogy

Two Italian sons and one wife, bound by a masterpiece of a painting, are tested in loyalty and honor.

At the heart of this gripping story is Orazio Bordoni, the headstrong son of a construction magnate who lives a reckless life, just like his artistic hero Caravaggio. He befriends Nicolo Giotto, the devoted son of a powerful Sicilian mafia clan, who wants to uphold his family’s honor.

As the dark underbelly of the art world and the Vatican expose their true nature, Orazio finds himself in a high-stakes game where loyalties are tested, honor is redefined, and the lines between life, love, and art blur. He and Nicolo discover how far they are willing to push those boundaries, even if it means sacrificing everything.

House of Honor is a pivotal story that weaves together the threads of art history, the ruthless pull of the mafia, and the enigmatic power of the Vatican into a compelling tale of betrayal, loyalty, and love.


Extract:

PROLOGUE

PALERMO, SICILY

1969-04-2019

First buy the rug.

The rain was pelting down on the windshield.

Via Vittorio Emanuele, 204. The store is located a few blocks from the Oratorio. I had the caller’s instructions etched in my memory.

Sanni maneuvered the van through a dark alley in Palermo’s oldest neighborhood and parked just behind the Tappeti Shihab carpet shop. The hanging light above the back door was not lit.

I rubbed my fingers over the pockets of my sweater, careful to avoid the razor blades in the left corner and the roll of thread in the right corner. Warm hands quickly opened a lock. Cold fingers would waste precious time.

After just a few seconds of standing in the cold rain, my fingers went stiff. I managed to wiggle the wire in the lock, turn the bolt, and push open the back door. We entered the storage room, which smelled of a sick combination of curry, patchouli, and wet wool. Sanni lit a match. Raindrops tapped through a hole in the roof onto a pile of Persian rugs. Typical: another littered, bombed-out Palermo warehouse with something valuable inside.

Get a big one, you’re gonna need it. Remember, The Dipinto is five square meters. The caller knew the size of the painting well. His measurements were exact.

Choosing a rug that was too big was better than a rug that was too small. We dragged a wet rug off the top and tossed it aside.

“This one. Help me roll it up and get it out of here,” I whispered to Sanni.

The heavy cloth was bunched up in the middle, but we managed to stuff it between the front seats, the end hanging past the cargo doors.What a devilI grabbed a greasy piece of rope from the back of the truck.

“Just fasten the doors together, I am happy.Only three more blocks to go.

Since I’ve been in Palermo, I’ve visited the painting in the Oratorio di San Lorenzo at least a dozen times. I knew the route with my eyes closed.

There will only be one guard standing in your wayThe caller had been here before.

The neon light on the van’s dashboard lit up the hands of the clock: 2:01 a.m. If we were lucky, the guard at the Oratorio would pass out.

The sacristy door on Via Immacolatella was the easiest way in. Two minutes from the carpet shop to the Oratory. Everything went according to plan. I jumped out of the van onto the wet cobblestone street and stood at the entrance. A huge iron key was stuck in the keyhole. I turned it and the door opened—the irony of breaking into Tappeti Shihab to steal a Hamadan rug while walking free and clear into the Oratory, home to one of Caravaggio’s last masterpieces… I almost laughed.

A moonlit beam tore through the gridded window. Sanni clicked on his flashlight. I motioned for him to turn it off. Someone was there. The old man’s persistent snoring sounded from the corner.

Hell be easy to maintainthe caller predicted.

Sanni nodded in that direction, raising his eyebrows and wondering what his next move would be.

Don’t touch anyone; leave that to Sanni was the last instruction I received.

I tapped my fist against the side of my skull to let Sanni know it was a knockout, not a kill, and let him do his thing. My goal was to get us and the painting out in less than ten minutes. I clicked the safety off my rifle in case the old man gave us any trouble.

Our black leather shoes crunched on the gritty floor and the sound caused the guard to stir. Sanni raised the gun above his head and a bang rattled the room, followed by a gasp.

Just go to the altar. Don’t worry about the old man, dead or alive.I said to myself. Almost at the door of the sacristy, I squeezed past the guard’s desk. Sanni followed. I cracked open the narrow side door used to bring in the Eucharist. Holy things in, holy things out. Had the master’s hands pushed this same dry mahogany door as he supervised the hanging of his priceless painting?

Standing before the cold marble altar, I tried to read Caravaggio’s Birth
in the darkness. The black frame made it difficult to make out the edges, but the white marble pillars and angels surrounding the frame reflected the moonlight.

With one powerful leap, Sanni landed on the altar. Grabbing an angel’s wing to steady himself, he reached out and pulled me up. My pounding heart felt like it was going to crack a rib as I climbed up the side of the tall, black marble.

When I stood on top of the altar, I looked up. The Christmas season was taller and thinner than she had seemed in the days I had stared at her in the pews. At this height my eyes met the Virgin Mary’s hand that held the fabric of her red dress. I could make out her brushstrokes. Joseph, St. Lawrence, and St. Francis were looking down at me. I pushed aside the creepy feeling that they did not approve of what I was about to do. As I judged the distance, I realized that even if I stood on Sanni’s shoulders, I would not be able to reach the top of the painting.

Using one of Serpotta’s guardian angel statues as a footstool, I could climb higher. I pointed to the angel and slammed my palms into Sanni’s leather jacket shoulders. He could lift me up, and then I would place my foot in the angel’s hand, reach the top of the painting, and begin carving. I double-checked that the razor blades were still in my pocket.

Sanni narrowed his eyes and shook his head in denial.

“No, climbing up the statues from here won’t work,” he whispered. “They’re too fragile. I think they’re made of plaster. We’ll need the ladder from the truck.”

The ladder? I suppressed a sense of panic and reminded myself of the caller’s precise instructions. This miscalculation of the height from the top of the altar to the top of the painting had already cost me precious time, but I had to get back to the bus. Would the ladder hold up against the frame? It couldn’t rest on the statues. What if the painting got damaged? What if the bus driver had already left?

The Adoration of the Shepherds with Saint Lawrence and Saint Francis

About Margaret Ann Philbrick:

Margaret Ann Philbrick is an author, gardener, and educator who loves planting seeds in hearts. Her first novel, A Minor: A Novel of Love, Music, and Memory (2014), was critically acclaimed, and her first picture book, Back the Manger (2009), is now a holiday classic. Her second novel, House of Honor: The Heist of Caravaggio’s Nativity, will be published June 11, 2024. She is the editor of Everbloom (2017), a collection of poetry and essays that helps women find their unique voices. Margaret is a frequent contributor to a wide range of journals, and her poetry has been published in numerous anthologies. She holds a BA in English Literature from Trinity University in San Antonio TX and a Masters (MAT) from National Louis University. She is a member of the Redbud Writers Guild and the Door County Published Author Collective. You can find Margaret digging in the dirt or wandering through a forest, or you can contact her through her website, margaretphilbrick . Her poems and photos can be found on Instagram and TikTok at seasonedpoetess .

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub

Information about the competition:

1 winner will receive a finished copy of HOUSE OF HONOR: THE HEIST OF CARAVAGGIO’S NATIVITY, available only in the US.

Ends October 22nd at midnight EST.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tour schedule:

Week one:

Week two:

Week three:

Week four:

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